


Towards the Door we Never Opened

by Caveat_Lector



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fake Character Death, M/M, Memory Palace, Phone Sex, Post-Finale, Will's vivid imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caveat_Lector/pseuds/Caveat_Lector
Summary: Will and Hannibal can't be together (yet), but they can still build memories in a variety of creative ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsSaxon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/gifts).



> Post-Wrath of the Lamb, Will went back to the FBI and pretended Hannibal had died and gone off the cliff by himself. Title stolen from T.S. Eliot.
> 
> Written for MrsSaxon for the Hannigram Holidays Exchange 2016 - I hope you enjoy this, and that you have a wonderful holiday season and a fabulous 2017 <3

Will stretched, cracking his eyes open just enough to see gauzy drapes shifting gently in the breeze. The sun was up, the terrace below waking into life with the low murmur and clatter of hotel staff on the early shift going about their business.

Beside him, Hannibal's body echoed his movements and wrapped itself around Will once more. 

Will leaned back into him. "Hey."

"Mmm."

Sleepy Hannibal was a new treat. Despite the intimacy they'd experienced in other ways, it had never been this way between them until now. It could have been, but they'd never-- it didn't matter. It was just that Will had never so much as imagined Hannibal so relaxed, hadn't seen what he was like before his brain had switched on for the day. He hadn't known it had an off switch at all, let alone one composed of some arcane combination of orgasms and snuggling.

And nuzzling, he thought, as Hannibal rubbed morning stubble over the back of Will's neck, buried his nose in Will's hair. Who would have guessed about the nuzzling?

The licking though, and the tasting: that hadn't been a shock. Will rolled his eyes as Hannibal's lips closed over his earlobe, sucking with just a tiny hint of teeth. His arms kept Will in check, 

"I'm not breakfast," he said, bucking Hannibal's thigh off him. "Go eat."

Hannibal nipped playfully at his shoulder for that. One hand slid down Will's chest to his belly, and he hummed a pleased little sound into Will's hair when he found a stiff cock waiting to slide into his palm.

"If you insist," Hannibal murmured, and Will couldn't help a groan, because that-- that was new too. 

Something vibrated against Will's leg, and he opened his eyes again. The shadows suggested it was late afternoon, the sunlight outside mellowing towards evening. Glasses clinked on the terrace below, and conversation buzzed just too low for him to make out words.

He prised his phone from his thigh – ugh, it was a little sticky – and swiped a thumb over the screen. 

"You have shitty timing," Will grumbled.

Hannibal chuckled. "Imaginary Will is so much more appreciative."

"Imaginary Will doesn't get woken up when he's about to get his dick sucked by imaginary Hannibal."

"I can see why that would ruffle your feathers." Hannibal still sounded far too fucking amused. "How long do you have?"

Christ, Will had no idea. He squinted at the phone display. "Flight's in five hours."

Hannibal was silent on the other end.

"Hannibal? That's enough time." As long as he didn't fall asleep again, anyway. 

"Yes. It's just-- it's been good hearing your voice again the last few days, Will."

Will's fingers clamped more tightly around the phone, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I know. Uh, I mean. Me too."

Hannibal was silent again, and god, he'd ruined the whole thing now. He rubbed a hand over his face, not sure how to fix this.

"Hannibal—" he started, but he wasn't allowed to finish. He hadn't been sure where the sentence was going, anyway.

"Are you still erect?" Hannibal asked, and maybe it was the choice of word, or hearing it in Hannibal's precise voice, but Will was hard again, almost instantly. He groaned.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hannibal said, far too smug. "Mmm. You taste delicious, Will."

"You—you don't know that." Will pinched at a nipple with his free hand. He didn't need to rush this.

"Fortunately, or perhaps in this case _un_ fortunately, that is true," Hannibal admitted. "But I can extrapolate. I know how you smell."

"I'm not sure I should be encouraging to put your mouth anywhere... delicate." Will let a finger trail down his cock. "Can I trust you, Dr Lecter?"

"Up to a point," Hannibal said. "But that's part of the appeal."

Will didn't deny it. "There are other things more appealing right now."

He closed his eyes and opened them again to see Hannibal's mouth fasten around his cock. He'd seen those lips do many things, but never that. 

"You're-- very forward, Dr Lecter," he gasped out. "Considering we've never even kissed."

Hannibal pulled back, lips glistening. Will couldn't take his eyes off them. 

"On the contrary, Will." Hannibal's finger traced the inside of Will's thigh. "I remember very clearly kissing every inch of skin from here--" Will shivered as the tips of Hannibal's fingers traced the bones of his ankle "–to here." Hannibal pressed at the crease of his thigh, and Will remembered those kisses too. He remembered the reverence in them, the way his breath had hitched at every touch, every breath against his flesh. He remembered falling asleep with Hannibal's face pressed into his hip.

He didn't know how it was possible, but truthfully, he didn't care.

Hannibal focused on Will's cock like it was the only thing in the world that interested him right now. Will had experience of being the target of Hannibal's attention, his own strange brand of devotion, but this was something else. He let his hand tangle in Hannibal's hair; it was short, so Will let it grow a little, just long enough to wind his fingers in it. 

"The walls are yellow," he said, not really sure why. "Were they yellow when you stayed here?"

"A dark shade of cream," Hannibal replied, pausing for breath. "Perhaps the difference is just time."

"Maybe. You can-- you can see it how I do now." He gasped as Hannibal's mouth tightened around him, his breath ragged and fast. "I never see you," he said, thoughts running smoothly into how easily he summoned up Hannibal's mouth, his hands, the feel of him against his back; but never his cock, never the parts he didn't have a real life reference for. But Hannibal upped his game before he could explain, and Will was coming, the thought lost as he cried out and spilled into Hannibal's mouth.

His alarm woke him in time for his flight, but it wasn't until he was waiting to board that he checked his phone and saw the messages waiting for him. He blinked at the first of the photos, because Hannibal's hair was almost exactly as he'd imagined it. Maybe a little more grey, but it suited him.

The second one... that kept him flushed and warm all the way home.

 

 

He couldn't risk keeping them, of course. 

Jack kept a close eye on him, even though they technically didn't work together any more. It didn't stop Jack from asking, and he wouldn't put it past Jack to take his phone to check it again now that he'd been out of the country, out of Jack's jurisdiction. 

He sat in his car before his first class back on Monday morning and deleted both photos, his call log and anything else that might be of interest. All the same, every slide he put up for the students was obscured by the image of Hannibal naked and hard. For him.

It was the longest class he had ever taught.

He didn't bother to turn around when he heard footsteps striding confidently through the receding tide of students. Only Jack Crawford could make trainees scatter that way.

"Enjoy your vacation?" 

"Why don't you tell me?" Will threw a glance over his shoulder, but continued packing his slides away. "I'm sure you had daily reports."

"Hourly."

"I hope the Bureau aren't expecting a good return on that investment. They're going to be disappointed."

Jack's "Hmmm," was non-committal, unless you knew him very well indeed. Will knew him better than very well, but then he did have an unfair advantage. Bad luck for Jack. 

"Is there something you want to say to me, Will?"

Will punched the locks down on his briefcase harder than was strictly necessary. "Nothing I haven't said before, _Jack_."

"Hannibal Lecter is dead?"

Will stepped down from the lectern and looked Jack straight in the eye. "Hannibal Lecter is dead."

Jack nodded, his mouth twisting in a grim smile. "It's been eight months. I'm getting tired of that tune, Will." He raised his voice as Will headed for the door.

"Not as tired as I am," Will muttered, and didn't look back.

 

 

The master bedroom of the cliff house was just how he remembered it, of course. Luxurious, with a ridiculously soft and enormous bed. He wondered what Hannibal would see. Could see? He couldn't risk a phone call, not when he was at home. What were the chances Hannibal would decide to think of this place, of him, would feel the need to visit this exact spot in his memory palace at just this moment? 

Really, the chances were unimaginably small they'd even come up with the same scenario if he did.

Hannibal was probably showering right now - 

_just a glimpse of skin, Hannibal raising an eyebrow as he rubbed himself down_

or cooking -

_the scent of red wine on his hands_

or maybe killing -

_the scent of blood, blood that looked dark in the moonlight, blood that gave the dragon wings._

All memories from here, but not ones he needed. No, Hannibal should be playing the piano, Will decided, and closed his eyes. He opened them again to a rich, soft cascade of notes. Hannibal's fingers danced over his skin, composed a symphony across his chest, his ribs, an entire opera down his arching, aching spine, down, down to--

"Oh my god."

Hannibal withdrew his tongue, but only long enough to press a kiss between Will's cheeks. He rubbed a damp thumb against Will's hole, humming with amusement, and Will lay his warm face against his pillow. That was... very Hannibal. 

"Jack thinks he has something," Will said, trying to keep his voice steady. He wasn't entirely successful.

Hannibal pressed the tip of his thumb inside and twisted it. _Fuck._

"You're confident he hasn't?"

"We haven't made a single traceable call. I've visited places you may have been connected to over the years, but you weren't anywhere near at the time."

"As far as you know," Hannibal said slyly. A slick finger pressed in alongside his thumb and Will squirmed.

"I thought you were going to--" Will cut himself off and bit his lip as Hannibal replaced the thumb with a second finger, maybe a third too; Will couldn't tell.

"I was, but you are quite chatty today. I hate to disrupt the conversation." 

Hannibal drizzled something cool and slippery over his fingers. It had a delicate scent that Will couldn't quite place, but if it was something that belonged in the kitchen he was going to have serious words with-- 

_Christ._

"I'm so fucked up," he muttered, and let Hannibal turn him over. Hannibal's cock, now large as life and just a little intimidating - _thanks for that, Hannibal_ \- pushed into him slowly, so slowly that Will groaned in frustration. 

"Patience," Hannibal said, hair flopping over his frown. His fingers dug into Will's thighs, trying to push them against his chest, but Will trapped him instead. Hannibal laughed as Will pulled him closer, deeper, over and over, until Hannibal groaned above him and Will followed him over the edge.

"How much longer?" Will asked, when he could form words again. Hannibal brushed a damp curl off his forehead, but he didn't answer. "It's been over a year. Jack's never going to stop looking, you know." 

Tears prickled at his eyes, and Hannibal's were suspiciously damp too. 

"I'm working on it," Hannibal said. He looked away. "It would mean giving everything up, Will."

Will pulled him back, a hand along the sharp cheekbone. Hannibal nuzzled into his palm in a way that was becoming familiar. "No," he said softly. "No, it wouldn't."

 

 

As soon as Jack heard, his visits increased to daily with an ambitious variety of threats and dire implications. His students were all used to leaving class early due to Jack trying to catch him off guard.

"You can't do this, Will." 

Will laughed, and after two weeks of this it wasn't hard to sound bitter. 

"I can and I am doing, Jack. I leave at Christmas and start the new job in January."

"If you think I'm going to stop investigating just because you move away--" Jack didn't finish, but he didn't have to.

"Oh, I know better than to think that." He paused, papers in his hand. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I miss him, Jack. I went through with the plan, but I regretted it. If he was alive, don't you think I'd be with him right now?"

"If he was dead, I think we'd have a body."

"Bodies aren't my business any more, Jack," Will said wryly. 

"Bodies will always be your business, just like killers."

Will wondered as he watched Jack depart if he had practiced that line, or variations on it. He hoped so; after all, it was the last words he would ever hear from Jack Crawford. Or he hoped they would be.

He had a long weekend, and Jack thought he'd be able to harangue him again next Wednesday, and a couple of days after that before Will's contract ended.

That wasn't going to happen.

 

 

Three days after Will Graham's burnt-out car was found in Wolf Trap, Virginia, with just enough forensic evidence to convince anyone who wasn't Jack Crawford, a lone figure approached a cabin deep in some snowy woods. They might have been in Canada, they might have been somewhere in Europe. 

Wherever they were, it didn't matter. And it wouldn't be for long.

"I'm afraid this is not quite what we have been accustomed to," Hannibal said, showing Will inside. "The bed is small, and not very comfortable."

The walls were plain and rustic, and the furniture minimal. A string of twinkling lights over the rough mantelpiece was a surprising touch of whimsy.

"Festive though," Will said, not sure what to do now Hannibal was in front of him. 

"Are you hungry?" Hannibal asked awkwardly, his hands gesturing at the tiny kitchen. "I can cook?"

It was the least comfortable Will had ever seen him as a host, and he couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him. The look on Hannibal's face only made him laugh harder, and eventually even Hannibal had to crack a smile.

"There's only one thing I need," Will said, opening his arms. "Come here."

"Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are dead," Hannibal said as he stepped into the embrace. His voice held a tinge of wonder, as if he hadn't really believed this would happen.

"Yes," Will said, holding onto him tightly. "And it's the best thing that ever happened to them."


End file.
